Short Story Collection

To Friends

I watched as a sly smile spread across his lips, his eyes landing on his new victim. From across the room, he looked almost innocent. If only the local newspaper hadn't plastered his face on their front page more than once. Fortunately for him, I seemed to be the only teenager within a mile radius who actually read the newspaper. It was as though I knew him: I knew of his drunk escapades, his bad choices, his drastic mistakes. But did I really know him? No. No one could really know George Hall.

But I could try.

Downing the rest of the drink in my glass, my throat burning from the alcohol, I placed a smile on my face and slowly strutted my way over to him. My high heels clicked against the floor, grabbing his attention away from the girl right in front of him.

"Really? You're setting your sights on Lily? She's not even in your league. Oh, who am I kidding? She's not even in your hemisphere." I smiled, leaning against the table. He rolled his eyes and turned to glare into my own.

"What to you want, Madeleine? Aside from me, of course." He answered in a calm composed tone. That was indeed the George Hall way.

Keeping the playful smile steady on my lips, I sighed dramatically, "Come on, George. Aren't you tired of this –" I gently bit my lip as I offered him a drink, "this tension?"

His glare quickly dissolved into a smirk, eyes flashing mischievously. I lifted my glass in the air, "Friends?"

Without a moment of hesitation he clinked the glass against mine and, with his gaze fixed on me, he sipped at the drink. My smile grew into a satisfied grin. He was exactly where I needed him.

Oh George, you are making this way too easy.

*

I straightened my dress, pulling the hem down slightly. My heart was pulsing in my chest, my throat constricting. Taking a deep breath, I told myself I needed to do this. It was just a way to pay college fees. I knew that. It was nothing personal against George but he was my ticket to finally becoming a lawyer. Keeping that in mind, I pulled back my shoulders, standing with more confidence.

I spotted George at a table, a drink already in his hand. He had arranged to meet me, apparently able to squeeze me in around his many friends. He was always surrounded by people. He was always ready to party. The most popular boy in school must have a secret.

What's your secret, George? What's your weakness?

I studied his cool exterior from the doorway, the way he exuded confidence. Even from this far away, it was obvious he was arrogant. Even his very posture, leaning back in his chair, as though he was in his own home, hands behind his head.

"Hello, George." His eyes travelled down my body and back up to my eyes, a smile settling on his lips. His eyes burned through mine and I suddenly felt like an open book, bare and vulnerable. Beginning to feel uncomfortable, I cleared my throat, "How's it going?"

He immediately stood, slowly walking round the table. He reached for my chair, leaning to whisper in my ear, "Better now you're here." I rolled my eyes and sat down, letting out a small chuckle.

Crossing my legs, I pulled the hem of my dress down again, brushing off some dust from the skirt, "My, my George. You really know how to charm a girl."

His smirk grew as he took his seat from across me. He ordered us both drinks as we sat. At first our conversation was stilted, the usual short remarks we exchanged. Slowly, our conversation became more relaxed and an hour passed quickly. Our flow was broken when a waitress knocked my bag from the table. She apologised incessantly as I ushered her away. The small clink of a bottle reminded me of what I was here to do; I picked up my bag and glanced inside, feigning a look of confusion.

"Oh George, I can't seem to find my lipstick. Can you see it?" He glanced at the floor and shook his head. "There it is, behind your chair. Can you reach it? Over there?" I pointed vaguely into the distance. He nodded and got up from his chair, searching the floor. I instantly grabbed the small bottle from my bag, emptying the clear liquid into his drink. I let a triumphant smile fly across my face before I settled for a look of confusion. Telling him not worry, I proposed a toast.

"To friends?"

He grinned and clinked his glass against mine, "To friends."

*

"George! For the love of -" I was cut short as he stumbled once again, my hand shooting out to grab his arm. He let out a giggle and I sighed in frustration, he had been stumbling about and falling all over the place for at least half an hour. Whatever was in that bottle, it was strong. "Stand still!"

George's drunken smile fell from his face. "You're mad at me. That makes me sad." He reached for the corners of his lips and pulled them down, sniffing for effect.

Rolling to eyes, I looped my arm through his to steady him until we reached a park bench. Who knew this would be so hard? It was like caring for a small child, and I was already wondering if it was worth the money. But of course it was, not everyone had money to throw around like the boy beside me. Not everyone had an account that could guarantee any dream they set their sights on.

He broke me from my thoughts with a chuckle, "Madeleine is mad at me, isn't that funny? Gosh, Why are you so serious? You're making me sad!" His playful face fell and I found myself wondering why he had fallen silent. His eyes were full of a sudden pain, "You know what else makes me sad? Thinking about Jacob." With a sigh, I nodded for him to continue, though I had no idea who 'Jacob' was. I braced myself for a comment about his butler or maybe the doorman he had at his apartment block.

Nothing could have prepared me for what I heard.

"The boy I kissed. I'm sad he went away. I loved him. Isn't that sad, Madeleine? Isn't it?"

My breath caught in my throat, unable to process what he just told me. George Hall, son of Jonathan Hall, one of the most powerful businessmen in New York City was -

"Gay? You're gay?" My voice was shaking, full of shock.

George immediately slapped his hand against my mouth, "Shh! Don't tell my dad I told you. He said -", he sighed softly, his head swaying, completely intoxicated, "He said if I told anyone, I wouldn't be his son anymore."

My eyes widened, frozen in my seat, his hand still limply pressed against my lips. I reached up to pull it away but as I did, he grabbed my hand and held it tightly. My heart was racing, breath hitched in my throat as he found my gaze, his eyes full of agony.

In a small voice, the lost voice of a child full of pain, "Can he do that, Madeleine? Can he really just not be my father anymore?"

I squeezed his hand, my heart aching for the boy with tears in his eyes. My voice came out softly, an almost inaudible whisper. "I don't know, George. I'm sorry, I don't know."

Time seemed to slow as his face fell, all hope lost as a stray tear slowly slipped down his cheek. I pulled him up and stopped a taxi, supporting his weight, as he seemed to have completely let go of his body. Paying extra to make sure he got inside his home safe, I enveloped him in a hug, he barely reacted as I let go and bundled him into the car.

It was only when I was alone that I realised I could single-handedly destroy his entire life. Tabloids would kill for a story like this, but more importantly they would pay. The disaster child of a prestigious businessman would pay enough for college but I couldn't do that for some money.

Could I?